Penance
by Rhapsody Belle
Summary: Snape's break from the ranks of the Death Eaters came too late to save the lives of Lily and James Potter, and his crimes are too great to go without punishment. Oneshot: canon universe - October 31st, 1981.


_October 31__st__, 1981_

The Potters' polite but firm refusal to name him their Secret Keeper had rankled every day since they first gone into hiding. Dumbledore had tried to make them see reason. He'd tried logic, he'd tried reason. When that had failed, he tried appealing to their friends to hound them. When even that had failed, he'd begun begging.

Lily had listened and nodded as he made his points, then countered each and every single argument with a calm and quiet, "Albus, anyone with eyes can see the stress you're under. You've been named Secret Keeper to at least six other families. James and I will not add to that burden. We have Sirius and we trust him implicitly."

Standing now in the wreckage of the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow, Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder if Lily and James knew that their implicit trust in Mr. Black had been heartbreakingly misplaced. Lily, for one, would never argue with him again. Dumbledore sighed and bent down to where she lay sprawled in the ruins of the nursery, her green eyes glassy and staring. He sighed, because it was either sigh or weep, and if he started weeping, he might never stop.

A white face loomed out of the shadows, pale and gaunt. Dumbledore's hand twitched towards his wand, but the choked, frightened voice of Severus Snape brought him up short.

"Headmaster? Is… is she--?

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a brief moment, then reached out and offered Lily the same courtesy. In death with her eyes closed, she looked to be merely asleep. If he tried even half-heartedly, he could almost convince himself she would wake at any moment, with laughter in her face, ready to gently but stubbornly refute every logical, rational argument he made. As she always had.

He spared a look to the shivering, pale Snape. The man, to his credit, looked like he wanted to be very sick, with long bony arms wrapped around himself in a failed effort to either warm or comfort. Dumbledore could have said, _Look what you've done here_. He could have said, _Where was your concern yesterday?_ He could have said any number of things. But what he did say was:

"I'm afraid so, Severus."

Snape swallowed hard and his face went ashen. "I never thought—"

It was hard, so hard, to be gentle with this boy, this thoughtless boy, who'd come crawling to him in the wake of his master's revelation that the Potters would die tonight. Had it been another family, Dumbledore was positive Snape wouldn't have batted an eyelash at their ghastly demise. He certainly wouldn't expect Snape to care enough to offer advance warning if the Dark Lord had chosen instead to personally take care of the Longbottom boy.

Then again, Lily always had been important to Snape; it was such a pity that it would only be her death that could possibly redeem him. He sighed again. Sigh once, or weep forever. "Severus—"

A baby's wailing cry interrupted him, and he was thankful for the distraction. All the tearful self-recriminations in the world would not change the outcome of his decisions. Hagrid appeared in the scorched remains of the doorway, holding a bundle of cloth close to his chest.

"'Eadmaster, I found 'im," he announced. He was looking down at the tiny burden, bouncing it gently with his arm. "Blasted clear across the room, 'e wos. Musta given the poor li'l one a great fright, bein' all tossed about like tha'." Hagrid looked up to say more, but his face darkened into murderous fury at the sight of Dumbledore's companion. His pink umbrella whipped up, the pointed end uncompromisingly focused on Snape. "Wot's _'e _doin' 'ere? Wot right does 'e 'ave 'ere?"

"Understanding the gravity of his choices," Dumbledore responded, and moved towards Hagrid. "Is young Harry alright?"

Hagrid's eyes did not waver from Snape's face, nor did the umbrella drop a whit. "'Ceptin' th' cut on 'is 'ead, and 'is two _dead parents_," he spat at Snape, "li'l tyke's th' picture o' 'ealth. Dunno wot You-Know-'Oo did to 'im, but it didn't take, wotever it wos."

Dumbledore nodded, then laid a gentle but restraining hand on Hagrid's umbrella arm. "Go home, Hagrid," he said. "Young Harry will be safe for the time being at Hogwart's, until more suitable arrangements can be made."

Hagrid nodded without a word and backed out of the room, eyes and umbrella still on Snape. The baby wailed again, and Hagrid rumbled a lullaby to him as he left. Dumbledore felt a tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding dissipate a little as the news that Harry was alive and apparently well

Which left him with the distasteful business of Severus Snape.

He turned and regarded the young man over the top of his spectacles. Snape couldn't hold his gaze; his eyes darted everywhere else in the room before finally settling on the clearest, least-accusing patch of floor he could find. His guilt and remorse was plain for, as Lily would have put it, anyone with eyes to see. He couldn't help but think – Merlin forgive him – _too little, too late._

With a great surge of will, he pushed those thoughts aside. It wasn't in him to abandon those others would label lost causes. He was a firm believer in the power of good, that even in the darkest depths of a Dark Wizard's soul, some good might still burn with the light of hope. Perhaps Snape had this good, but it would not come out on its own. He'd taken a good, solid first step towards the Light in coming to Dumbledore with the information that the Potters would be attacked; it would be up to Dumbledore to see if he could coax him further down the path.

"You were Voldemort's chief apothecary, were you not?"

Snape flinched violently at the sound of his dead master's name, then nodded miserably. "I was," he mumbled.

"I have a position open at Hogwart's," he said, and saw Snape's head snap up, his expression confused and bewildered. "Professor Slughorn submitted his letter of resignation to me less than a week ago. I expect he's already fled the country to find warmer, less dangerous climes. You are eminently qualified and will take his place on my staff."

"What?"

Dumbledore didn't reply immediately, merely bent again to Lily's body still laying in the cold, ruined nursery. He reached out and, with fatherly affection, brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "You have done great wrongs, Severus," he said gravely when this task was done. "Your concoctions and brewing have harmed many families who did not deserve the pain. You asked for my protection, and I have given it. But you knew there would be a price."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape stiffen. "I thought—"

"You thought Azkaban, in the deepest darkest cells we can find," Dumbledore said. He touched Lily's cold cheek one final time, and then stood up. "That would not be punishment for you, Severus. That would be a chance to dwell on what you have done, the lives you have taken and affected. But it would not be punishment." He thought he saw understanding dawn on Snape's face, followed swiftly by dismay.

"You want me to—"

"Teach, yes. In fact, I expect to see your lesson plan on my desk first thing Tuesday morning. Tomorrow will be declared a day of feasting and remembrance at Hogwart's; I rest assured you will use it accordingly to plan out the rest of the year's lessons. I shall give you a copy of Professor Slughorn's syllabus for reference."

Snape's face crumpled, and it was very hard for Dumbledore to determine if it was from anguish or disgust. "But why..? Why?"

Perhaps the bleak, blunt, unvarnished truth would suffice. "You have a brilliant mind, Severus," he replied. "Your potions marks are the highest of any student at Hogwart's since the late 1800s. Youngest Potions Master since Nicholas Flamel himself nearly four hundred years ago." He sighed, and polished his spectacles on the end of his sleeve. "But you've turned that mind to ill of late, and you have many debts to repay. All of those who have suffered because of you, whether directly or indirectly, must be given recompense.

You will educate their children, and you will not shirk the task. You will repay them for the harm you have done, and you will not let that brilliant mind go to waste as it would rotting in a cell in Azkaban. This is your penance. This is your punishment."

Snape was quiet for a long moment, thin arms clutched around himself so hard the knuckles were bloodless. He squeezed his eyes shut, his inner turmoil plain on his face for Dumbledore to follow. Guilt, dismay, suffering, disgust, resignation. "As you wish it, Headmaster," Snape said dully. "What about the Ministry?"

Dumbledore could not bring himself to smile, not even a hint. "Go to Hogwart's, Severus. Go to the kitchens and have Combly and the other house elves prepare a room for you, wherever you'd like in the castle."

"And the Ministry?"

"I'll take care of the Ministry. Now go, and rest. Reflect on what has happened to our world if you must, if you cannot stop yourself. Tomorrow, begin your atonement, and we will go from there."

Snape nodded again and spun listlessly on his foot, Apparating away with a sharp crack. Just in time too, Dumbledore thought wearily as similar cracks and pops sounded in the air. He pulled up the remnants of a chair and seated himself on it, standing watch over Lily until the Aurors came with soft cries of sorrow and gentle hands to take her and her husband away.


End file.
